The Odds
by JudeClee
Summary: A "what if" story inspired by a moment in The Hunger Games. I've always wondered if the seeds of rebellion had already been planted before Katniss. This is the story of the 66th Hunger Games, its tributes, and the choices they make before and after entering the arena.


Of course, all of the outer districts were considered unpleasant places, but District 8 had the reputation of being particularly overcrowded. The houses were all tall and narrow, built up instead of to the sides in order to accommodate the most people, all lined up in long rows. Sometimes families were allotted a couple of rooms in an apartment complex, though they were hardly any better. Sometimes the backs of houses would have enough gray slabs of cement to count as a yard, and even sometimes they contained bits of green, though never enough to grow anything.

On the night before the reaping of the 66th Hunger Games, District 8 was as quiet as the dead. The swarms of people were now packed indoors, spending the evening with their loved ones, particularly if those loved ones were between the ages of twelve and eighteen.

There were some exceptions. One was named Lux, a yellow-haired eighteen-year-old girl, whose small stature hid toned arms and legs. She was in the basement of what was, on the surface, a men's footwear shop (really it just sold factory worker's boots), but was in in actuality an illegal fighting ring. All fighting rings were illegal in District 8, but that didn't stop most people; with so many people all packed so close together, they needed an outlet for all of their pent-up energy.

Lux was in the ring, informally fighting with her sparring partner. She'd been fighting as an amateur boxer for the past three years now. The risk was huge, but she was the oldest of eight, and needed the money. She knew that she should spend the night with her family, and she would, just as soon as she finished up here. She needed to get this edge off. This was her last year in the reaping, so she wasn't so worried—the odds were in her favor. But this year there were three children in her family eligible for the Hunger Games, and all three had been chosen in the preliminary round. Her sister was seventeen, her brother only fourteen…

Lux landed one last, solid punch just to the left of her partner's nose, then called it a night.

Julian could hardly sleep the night before the reaping.

His bedroom was large and spacious, with a sliding glass door that led out into the balcony, a shelf that contained his video games and Capitol-approved books, and a desk for his computer. He was tempted to turn the lights on and find something to distract himself, but his body stayed frozen in the bed.

Julian came from a family of victors. District 2 was a hotspot for victors, but his family was considered special even for District 2. His grandfather, uncle, and two of his cousins were victors. His mother and his brother had both won their respective Hunger Games. His family had a long held reputation of wealth, glory, and valor.

He would be the next to win. In the daylight, he was confident in his skills and strength, convinced that he had what it took to win. But now that it was night, his thoughts turned to Darius. His brother, the middle of the three boys in their family, had failed to participate in the Hunger Games. He always hesitated during his reapings, so that another male always volunteered before him. He was twenty-one now, but the unspoken shame still hung over Darius.

Julian couldn't let that happen to him. He was eighteen now, and this would be his year.

Hollis wished his dad would fix that damn leak. The dripping was starting to get on his nerves. Again and again, Dad promised to get to it, but he working in the coal mines all day and was too tired when he came home.

Hollis would not worry. He would not. So what if tomorrow was the reaping? What were the chances that his name, out of all of the names in District 12, would be called? There were some kids who had their names in as many as forty times, while his was only in six.

This was his second reaping. He could still remember the unrelenting terror of the first. He remembered the tension just before the boys were called, as he and all of the other twelve-year-olds held their breath as one. He remembered the secret relief he felt as he watched a fifteen-year-old walk to the stage instead, and then the guilt of having felt such strong, undeniable happiness that another boy was chosen to die.

Hollis didn't like to think of himself as a coward, but he was a realist. He was short and skinny, even for his age, underfed, with nothing but blood and bone beneath his skin. Sure, he was smart, one of the smartest kids in his school (not that that was saying much), but smarts wouldn't' do you much good when you were up against opponents who were older, stronger, and bigger. And then there were the Careers; it was an open secret that they'd been training for years, some for as long as they could hold a fake sword. He wondered what it was with them—did they always win because they had so much money and resources, or did they have so much money because they always won?

But, he told himself as he drifted off to sleep, what were the chances that he would be picked?


End file.
